


Give and Take

by BatchSan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Angst, F/F, Feelz, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Sadstuck, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:42:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/pseuds/BatchSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and Roxy and meeting for the first time. (Or, a lifetime of unspoken words and needs between Lalondes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> Today is Rose's birthday and to celebrate my favorite fictional character, I wrote angsty Lalondecest feelz! (Right, because angsty incest totally makes for a perfect b-day present for a fictional character. *sanity questionable*) =D

There's a whole lot of tension humming through Rose's body when pink eyes finally open, bleary and half-lidded in confusion. A silly smile lingers on her face until she wipes the drool from the corner of her mouth and wipes the smile away with it. It's a pity too because Rose had grown fond of that drooly smile. It was familiar and held a blanket over the hole in her heart that was her mother's death. Now she's faced with a familiar upturned press of lips as the girl tries to collect her thoughts, take in what's before her. 

The hum of tension buzzing through her is literally an orchestra now as Roxy opens her mouth to speak. She hesitates and closes it again, stepping toward Rose on unsteady feet, pausing. Pink eyes are locked onto her face and Rose feels uneasy under the heavy scrutiny, even though it beats a pang of memories and regret in her chest. She can't help a shiver that goes down her spine at the overwhelming familiarity on the other girl's face, even when she can see that this is not her mother. Not yet, and likely never.

And she can't decide which is worst.

*

She's seen her in her dreams; has memories that she wouldn't have believed to be anything more than alcohol-induced blackout bliss if not for the fact that when she opens her eyes and sees her for real, with her own eyes, Roxy forgets how to breathe. She's traced an image of that face so much that the picture she has is worn out from all the touching. Roxy can draw it with her eyes closed, poorly, but still.

There's a lump in her throat that threatens to choke her when she opens her mouth to speak so she chooses to close it. This is her mother, but not her mother. Too young to ever be her mother and it's startling to realize that she's still going to miss out on that opportunity. Roxy wishes she knew more about her mother to discern her subtle features now that she can finally face them, but she does see a flick in violet eyes that she's caught before in the reflection of her blank laptop screen many times before. It's the look of disappointment.

Roxy decides she's too sober to deal with this.

*

Rose finds her again a few days later, sitting outside and staring at the neverending nexus of stars and nothingness. There was still a buzz of tension humming under her skin but a lot of it went out of her when Roxy took off after they first made eye contact. Was it fear of the unknown? No, it wasn't possible. That wasn't like her mother.

Which is to say, if this girl was an alternate version of her mother, along with sharing strikingly similar looks to her, it was likely that she probably shared similar personality traits with her as well. Fear of the unknown was not a thing that was likely bothering Roxy, and Rose was afraid that she may have seen something in her face that gave away more than she meant to give away.

They don't speak as Rose sits beside her, leaving enough distance so neither feels suffocated, but aren't miles apart as they, no, she and her mother had been in life. They stare off into the unknown in silence for an unknown amount of time because there's no sun to chart out the time. Time has become rather irrelevant to most of them anyway.

She flinches when Roxy's hand reaches out and touches her wrist, pink eyes staring at the spot as if she's experiencing something that's impossible. It probably is, though she's not sure in what way. 

"I love you," Roxy says, quietly.

Rose finds she can't breathe.

*

It devolves quickly from there.

There were too many unspoken words and needs between them. They knew now that life was cruel and things are gone in the blink of an eye. Take what you can, when you can, before it's too late.

And right now, they have each other in ways they never did before.

So they take, take, take.

*

Roxy is overwhelmed simply by warm touches against her body. For once its not her hand, a stuffed animal, a pillow, or even a bottle touching her; fucking her. She knows it should be weird and wrong because this is her mother, her sister, her flesh, and yet she opens her mouth and moans louder when Rose's lips brush against hers.

She's a victim of her own need thanks to her long desperation for person to person contact. Maybe it took sixteen years, but her mother (not-mother), is finally there for her. There's comfort in that and it's not weird in the ways Roxy knows it should be, based on what's she read and learned from her friends.

When Rose rocks harder against her, cores rubbing against one another, she begs her not to stop. Never stop.

* 

Rose is less needy of the physical contact, yet relishes in it all the same. For once it's not a friend or a stranger offering it to her - it's her mother; sister; whatever. She's a victim of her own psychoanalysis - a walking Freudian slip up in the flesh. She doesn't care though, long ago making peace with the fact.

When Roxy begs for more, hisses 'yesssss' when she gets it, Rose knows that she'll give until she can't anymore. For once, she's allowed to indulge her mother (not-mother) with tokens of love that aren't rejected or commented on or treated as passive-aggressive games. She finds she needs it in the same way Roxy needs her to touch her.

No matter what she pleads for between sweaty locks and moans, Rose was going to give it to her.

"I love you too," Rose says and means it.

They breathe heavy against each other and kiss sloppily, and keep moving.

(Don't stop, she begged. They begged. They took.)


End file.
